


What I Did on My Summer Vacation

by Slimslash



Category: BSB, NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: Awkward, M/M, dudes, hot summer nights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:42:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2466992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slimslash/pseuds/Slimslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boys will be boys. Written for the "Don We Now Our Gay Apparel" challenge 2003.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I Did on My Summer Vacation

The first time they had sex was almost the last. If Chris'd had his way, it _would've_ been the last. 

In fact, if he could've figured out a way--short of calling Lonnie--he would've gotten Nick out of the condo before he even woke up, but that was kind of difficult considering that Nick was sleeping half on top of Chris's back, flattening him face-first to the mattress, one arm wrapped tight around Chris's waist like he thought Chris was some kind of human teddy bear. 

Chris figured it was probably a good thing, really. Nick crushing him like that kept him from hyperventilating over the fact that Nick Fucking _Carter_ was naked in his bed. Naked and asleep and... snuggling. That was really the only word for it, with the way Nick had his face pressed against Chris's shoulder. And that was just a little too much for Chris to take at ass-crack of dawn on a Saturday morning. Chris squinted up at the clock against the sunlight streaming through the slats of the blinds. Or, you know, 11:37 AM, if you really wanted to get technical about it. 

_Breathe. Just breathe. You're so fucking fucked. No, just breathe._

It only took a minute or five to get calm enough to ease out from under Nick and over to the edge of the bed. Chris rolled onto his back carefully and looked at Nick, who was still, thankfully, fast asleep. And yep, naked. As naked as Chris. Definitely naked under that sheet, and although Chris's brain was spinning like a top trying to figure out a way out of this, he couldn't help but be a little distracted by the tattoos spread out over all that tanned skin. Not like he hadn't seen them before, what with all the surfing and boating they'd been doing lately, but he'd never seen them like _this_ , naked in his bed in the morning, when he could practically still taste the salt of Nick's skin on his tongue from the night before. 

Chris closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the awful sight of Nick's naked body taunting him from under the rumpled sheet. What had he been _thinking_? Hanging out with Nick Carter, that was one thing. Going with him to check out a new tattoo parlor, meeting up at the marina and heading out on the boat for a day of fishing and swimming, perfectly normal. Having him over for pizza and beer, playing Halo with him until 2 AM, that was all fine. Especially when you considered that none of the guys were around this summer, that they barely even lived in Florida anymore, what the hell was he supposed to do? 

But somehow, last night things had gotten on a different track, and Chris still wasn't sure how. Because offering to let Nick stay over since it was so late and they'd had so much to drink was perfectly sane, but then feeding him some lame line in the hallway outside the bedroom door? Pushing Nick back against the wall so suddenly that he yelped, then giggled? _Climbing him like a tree to reach his lips?_ That was inexcusable. 

That was going to ruin everything. 

The sound of Nick stirring yanked Chris back to the present. He stared as Nick started to wake up, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks, candy-red lips opening wide, wider in a huge yawn as he stretched like a big, golden cat. 

So. _Fucked._

And in about one second, Chris was going to have to face it, say it, whatever was going to need to be said. "It's been fun, see ya around sometime," maybe? Or, "Who are you and how did you get in my house?" Something that would get Nick up and out, even if he got mad, something that would make it really, _really_ clear that Chris didn't do this kind of thing. This relationship thing. There must be something he could say. 

But his mind was blank, and Nick was starting to sound like he was really waking up. So Chris did the only thing he could do. He rolled off the bed before Nick opened his eyes, grateful that he'd insisted on carpet in the bedroom when his decorator had wanted wood. 

Still, the thud must've woken Nick the rest of the way up, because a second later came a confused, "Chris?" And God, Chris really didn't need to know that Nick's voice was almost a full octave deeper when he first woke up, he really _did not need_ to know that. "Chris, are you down there?" 

And then there was a messy tangle of blond hair over the edge of the bed, and then Nick was blinking down at Chris with a bemused look. "Did you fall out of bed, dawg?" Nick didn't wait for an answer, just reached down and grabbed Chris's hand to pull him back up. 

Chris yanked his hand back, sat up quick and scooted backwards, shielding his dick from Nick's view. "I'm good, I'm fine, uh, how'd you sleep?" Not what he'd meant to say, and _breathe, breathe_. 

Nick sat up and leaned back against the headboard, his naked skin glowing in the sunlight in a most distracting way. "I slept great. This bed is really comfortable." 

"Uh, thanks," Chris managed, not pointing out that Nick hadn't exactly been sleeping on the mattress. "Um, do you wanna, like, don't you have stuff to..." 

Nick smiled. "Naw, man. I'm free all afternoon." He covered another yawn with one hand before he continued, "You busy?" 

Chris nodded as he spoke. "No, pretty much free all day." Damn. Damn. On top of everything else, sleeping with Nick Carter had apparently made it impossible for him to tell a lie. Even a lie that would've saved them both so much trouble, because now Nick was going to want to hang out and _talk_ , go over things, figure out what it _meant_ and all that shit. Dani had always wanted to talk, but even she hadn't loved talking like JC had loved talking. And Chris was really bad at that kind of talking. 

But Nick didn't seem to care about Chris's crisis. "Cool, so we can hang out for awhile, and then..." he broke off to stretch again, and Chris winced at what was surely coming next, but he waited for Nick to say it, "then maybe we can go out to Grand Prix and hit the batting cages or something, after breakfast? I haven't been in a long time. Or dude, the go-karts. Yeah?" 

Chris blinked. Batting cages? Go-karts? Not talking about this... this whatever they'd done last night that left them both naked and exhausted in bed afterwards? And now that he let himself think about that--even in the most fleeting way--he had to say that what they'd done had been a lot of fun. A _lot_. 

"Uh, yeah. Sure." He cleared his throat. "That sounds... fun." He tried not to stare as Nick dug around under the sheet for his boxers. God, but the boy was fine. And he knew his way around a guy, too. Chris's mouth went dry at the memory of being kissed until he'd almost passed out, then those lips on his dick, those fingers touching him just the right way in all the right places, even a few spots he hadn't ever really thought about until last night. "Yeah," he said weakly as Nick stood up beside the bed, towering over him. "Go-karts." 

Nick grinned down at him and offered a hand to help Chris stand up. This time, Chris took it. Pulling him up, Nick leaned forward and kissed him quick and firm on the lips, too fast for Chris to start freaking out again, then let go and turned towards the bedroom door. "So, you get the Cartoon Network in this place?" 

He left Chris standing naked by the bed, watching Nick Carter's fine, fine ass walk away, clad only in boxers. 

_Damn._

*** 

So that was how it started. Except not really, as Chris reminded himself on a near-daily basis, because there wasn't any "it" to start. They weren't dating. They were simply hanging out. A lot. The hot sex was an unexpected bonus. But not in a relationship kind of way. Just... fuck buddies. Yeah. That sounded good. 

It wasn't that Chris didn't know how to love people. He loved with the same fervor and energy with which he approached everything in his life, so hard that it sometimes overwhelmed people. He knew how to love. But that was his friends. His family. Romance was a whole different thing. Once sex was involved, things always seemed to fall apart--no matter how much he cared. 

He knew people always said you should be friends first, but that never seemed to work right for him. Even with someone he'd known for years, he'd find himself getting anxious, pushing them away, doing stupid shit to keep them from getting closer, until they finally gave in and split. He didn't blame them. And really, it was probably for the best, because then he could sometimes--usually--go back to being friends with them. He was a good friend. But when it came to being a boyfriend? Not so good, apparently. 

He never really talked about it, but he was fiercely proud of his friendships with Dani and JC. It hadn't been easy, but it was so much better now that they were his friends instead of anything else. But it'd been a while since he'd even tried for more than a date or two, or a one-night-stand, so sleeping with Nick seemed like a bad, bad idea. If he let himself think about it, which he didn't, much. 

But as was quickly becoming obvious to him, he didn't have to think about it to _do_ it. 

*** 

Chris loved to ride his bike out to Marathon, so once he was down there Nick usually ended up driving them around in his Jeep. Nick was a decent driver, except he had a tendency to slow down whenever he tried to talk and drive at the same time, which made Chris want to reach over and punch the gas himself. 

Chris flipped through Nick's CD book, looking for something worth listening to. "Man. You must have every CD Bryan Adams ever made." He turned another page. "In your _car_." 

Nick grinned and nodded happily. "Those are my old ones. Howie gave me a whole set of autographed ones last Christmas." 

Chris rolled his eyes. "I don't think I could ever date anyone with that much Bryan Adams in his music collection." He dodged the smack Nick aimed at his head. "Hey, eyes on the road, dude!" 

Nick slapped at him again, hitting him this time. "Good thing we're not dating, then," Nick said with a smile. 

Chris gave him a withering look and turned back to the CDs. "Ooh, Journey," he said, sliding _Escape_ out of the sleeve and into the CD player. 

*** 

They'd been hanging out since late spring, when Nick and Howie had shown up one Tuesday at Firestone while Chris was hosting. It had been a while since Chris had seen Nick, probably not since Rock and Jock the year before, but he seemed... different. Happier. Smiling all the time, and not that sharp smile Chris remembered. Just comfortable in his skin. 

When Nick heard Chris'd bought a condo in Miami, he laughed and asked if Chris was retired now. Somehow they'd gotten from there to making golf plans, and since then they'd hung out regularly, at least once a week or so, in Miami or the Keys. 

Justin had laughed when he'd found out who Chris was spending so much time with. Joey had teased Chris about trading in one blond sidekick for another. Lance had been suspicious at first, until Chris had reminded him that there weren't exactly any group secrets to protect at the moment. 

JC had called Chris to ask if the rumors about Nick were true. 

"What rumors, C?" 

"You know. That he's... a big boy." 

"What?" 

"I've heard he's hung. I don't need details. Just... yes or no?" JC sounded hopeful. 

"Dude, we're not fucking!" Chris stared at the phone. This was _so_ not happening. 

"You're not?" 

"Don't sound so disappointed." 

The subject had shifted then, but before they'd hung up, JC had asked, "So, when you find out, will you tell me?" 

Chris had hung up without saying goodbye. 

Six weeks later, he bit the bullet and dialed JC's number, making sure to call several hours before JC would be awake. Maybe he wouldn't even remember it when he woke up. 

"It's true," he mumbled, hoping C would think it was a wrong number. 

He could still hear JC's squeal of glee after he hung up a second later. 

*** 

Chris took Nick to his favorite used CD store, CD Warehouse on Biscayne. Buy ten CDs, get the eleventh free. Justin always teased him about how he loved the place, but it wasn't about the money. It was the thrill of finding unexpected treasures. 

"Cool," Nick said when he saw the bins of classic rock. Chris headed over to the indie section. 

While they were waiting to check out, he passed judgment on Nick's choices. "The Eagles, cool. The Cars, very cool. Meatloaf, uh, no comment. ZZ Top? Man." He shook his head. 

"What? They're great," Nick protested. "What are you getting?" 

Chris showed him. "Sleater-Kinney. Old 97s. Mike Ness. Elastica." 

Nick shrugged. "Whatever, man." 

"Hey, it's better than Bad Company." Chris gestured at the rest of Nick's stack of discs. 

One corner of Nick's mouth quirked up. "I dunno, dawg. Bad Company seems pretty appropriate right now." 

*** 

"Incoming!" Chris yelled, taking a flying leap over the back of his sofa to tackle Nick. The bowl of popcorn bounced out of Nick's lap and onto the floor, spilling everywhere. 

"You fucker," Nick panted, struggling to free his arms from where Chris had them trapped against his sides. 

Chris held on tighter, pushing Nick down into the cushions and laughing in his ear. With a grunt, Nick arched up off the sofa and dumped Chris onto the floor, falling after him. 

Still laughing, Chris flipped over onto his belly and started to scramble away, but Nick grabbed him by the belt and dragged him back. Throwing himself onto Chris's back, Nick yelled "Steamroller!" and rolled to one side, then the other, forcing most of the air out of Chris's lungs. 

It was great. 

One of the best things about wrestling with Nick was that he never went easy on Chris. He fought as dirty as Joey and his reflexes were as quick as Justin's. Nick said it was from growing up as the oldest of five in his family and the youngest of five in his band. 

Most other guys Chris had known, besides _his_ guys, had assumed that because Chris was shorter, they had to be more careful. Those people usually ended up getting hurt, because they didn't fight back hard enough. Nick didn't have that problem. 

It had been a while since Chris had been around someone he could let himself go with. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until the first time he'd pantsed Nick, on the boat, and Nick had just tossed Chris over his shoulder and then unceremoniously heaved him overboard, fully clothed. 

Still pinning Chris from behind, Nick grabbed the back of Chris's head and pushed his face into a pile of popcorn on the rug. "You give, Kirkpatrick?" He was breathing heavy, and it might be from the roughhousing, but Chris felt something hot coiling in his belly at the sound. 

"What if I don't, Carter?" He wiggled his ass, and heard Nick's sharp intake of breath. _Yeah._ "You gonna make me sorry?" 

Nick was panting in Chris's ear. When he spoke again, his voice was deeper. "You know you're asking for it, don't you?" 

Chris shivered. Oh, yeah. If this was wrong, he didn't want to be right. He twisted around, and Nick lifted up to let him flip over, and then they were kissing, open-mouthed, and scrambling to open each other's pants, and another movie night was shot all to hell. 

*** 

They got into an argument about the Ataris' version of "Boys of Summer." Nick thought it was blasphemy. He had big love for 80s music, and he said it was okay to cover songs like that in concert, but not to record them. Chris laughed at that distinction and said he thought the new version was better than the original. Nick put him in a headlock and made him take it back, then kicked his ass at foosball for good measure. 

So the mix was mostly a joke. After the Bryan Adams incident, and the trip to CD Warehouse, Chris thought maybe he should do Nick a favor and try to save him from himself. It's not that his taste in music was _bad_ , exactly... no, actually, Chris reconsidered. It was bad. 

It was an eclectic mix. Everything from Veruca Salt to Johnny Cash, and he figured if he was going to do it he might as well go all the way, so he included Old 97s and Nine Inch Nails, too. Maybe it would've been better to combine it with stuff he knew Nick already liked, more user-friendly or whatever, but there was something to be said for a shock to the system. 

He had a couple of minutes left at the end so he added Dynamite Boy's version of "I Want it That Way," though surely Nick had heard it before. If you got right down to it, he put some of the stuff on there to try to freak Nick out. Not that he'd ever admit that to Nick. But he kinda hoped. 

Nick raised one eyebrow when Chris hopped into the Jeep and handed the CD over. "Why am I not surprised?" 

Chris tried to put on an innocent look. 

"You like so much different music, dude. How can you be such a snob?" Nick continued, reading the tracklisting Chris had scrawled on the disc with a Sharpie. 

Chris was wounded. "I'm not a snob." 

Nick shot him a look. "You're... what is it? Intolerant." 

"I just want you to hear some of my favorite stuff. Is that so bad?" 

Nick finally laughed at Chris and tucked the CD above the driver's side sun visor. "I'll play it on the way home tomorrow." 

That night, after dinner at Chris's favorite South Beach diner and a few hours spent drinking beer and shooting pool, they fucked in Chris's bed with Journey's greatest hits playing on the stereo. Afterwards, when Chris was drifting off and Nick was humming along sleepily to "Open Arms," the music didn't seem like such a big issue anymore. 

*** 

One day Nick stopped by to see if he wanted to go shopping. Chris laughed. "Shopping? You got a date, man?" 

"Yeah, right." Nick stuck his foot out. "I need new sneakers." 

"Dude, you're not kidding." The toe of one of Nick's Chuck Taylors was wrapped in duct tape. "Didn't you have any others to wear?" 

Nick shrugged. "These are still the most comfortable." 

In the sneaker store, Chris wandered off as Nick waited for the salesman to return with a pair of shoes. Chris was standing in front of the Nike display when his phone rang, and he had to laugh when he looked at the display. 

"Hey J. You must be psychic or something." 

"Huh? Why, you been talkin' about me?" 

"I'm standing in front of a huge pile of the prettiest sneakers you ever did see." 

"Ohh..." Chris heard the envy in Justin's voice. "You're shopping? Are you gonna get me anything?" 

"Man, I learned a long time ago not to try to buy you shoes. You've already got 'em all." 

Justin laughed. "So what's up? You haven't called me all week. You been busy?" 

Chris glanced over to see Nick jumping around energetically, testing out a pair of shoes. He turned back to the Nikes. "Uh, not really. Well, a little, I guess." 

"Oh yeah?" Justin prodded. "You still seeing Nick?" 

Chris almost dropped the phone. "First of all, I'm not _seeing_ Nick," he hissed, shooting a look furtively across the store, where Nick was pulling out his wallet to pay for the shoes that were still on his feet. "We're just hanging out. Okay?" 

"I got my sources, man," Justin gloated, like he always did when he thought he was right. "So, you made him a mix yet?" 

"What?" Chris looked around to make sure Nick wasn't within earshot. 

"A mix. You have, right?" 

"Maybe, but--What? Shut up! I was trying to broaden his musical horizons a little." 

Justin was still laughing. "You're so gone, man. Wait'll I tell Lance." 

Chris swore. "You two are worse than teenage girls. No, wait, you _are_ teenage girls." 

"You ready to go, Chris?" Nick had snuck up on him somehow, all stealthy in his new black Chucks. 

Chris checked them out. "Meet the new shoes, same as the old shoes, huh?" 

Nick grinned. "Why mess with perfection?" He looked at phone Chris was still holding. "You busy, or you wanna go shoot some hoops? I want to break 'em in." 

"Yeah, let's go," he answered, grimacing as he heard the laughter coming from his phone. "Call you back later, J." 

"Tell your boyfriend I said hi," Justin answered, right before Chris hung up. 

Later, after he'd whipped Nick at one-on-one, and the new shoes weren't looking quite so pristine, they drove through at Wendy's and then parked by the beach. Chris's mix was playing on the stereo, and the sun was going down as they ate their burgers and Frosties in silence. 

"You're not my boyfriend, you know," Chris finally blurted out, staring out at the water. 

"Of course I'm not." Nick's eyeroll was practically audible. "You gonna finish your fries?" 

*** 

Nick liked to touch. Even when they weren't fucking, he was always touching Chris, and Chris liked that. 

Sometimes it was like that first morning, waking up with Nick wrapped around him like a vine, the two of them sweating wherever their bodies met, fingers tangled together under the pillow. Other times, Chris would stretch himself out over Nick like a blanket, tucking his head under Nick's chin and ignoring Nick's complaints. 

"Dawg, you're too heavy to stay there." 

"This is what you get for being so big and comfy, Carter," he'd say, settling in. 

"Can't... breathe..." Nick would gasp dramatically, and Chris would poke him in the ribs. 

"Shut up and let me sleep. I'm comfortable." 

Sometimes at that point Nick would flip Chris onto his back, pin him to the mattress, and they'd go one more round. Other times, he'd simply chuckle and run a big hand up and down Chris's back as Chris fell asleep. 

Either way was fine with Chris. 

It wasn't all about the bedroom, though. Nick was just a physically affectionate guy, which made sense considering his background, and Chris understood it thanks to his own. After all those years with the guys, Chris had often felt inhibited around other friends who weren't quite as comfortable with the constant touching and wrestling he'd grown used to. With Nick, that was no problem. Even before they started sleeping together, Nick had often slung his arm around Chris's shoulder when they sat side-by-side. Now, he was just as likely to grab Chris's ass whenever it was within reach. 

And Chris wasn't complaining about that, either. 

*** 

Even though Chris finally had to admit to himself that they really _were_ sleeping together, he still congratulated himself almost daily that he wasn't falling for Nick. He didn't need to fuck up another friendship with so-called "romance," because he really liked hanging out with Nick. 

They checked out all the comic book stores they could find in the Miami yellow pages. Nick was as enthusiastic as Chris, although he wrinkled his nose at Cerebus the Earth Pig, Chris's favorite. 

Nick's excitement over anime reminded Chris that he'd heard Nick could draw. When Chris asked him about it, he shook his head and grinned. "It's been forever, dawg. I kinda got out of the habit." 

Next time Chris was at Nick's place, he asked again. Nick had to be coaxed, but he finally pulled out a sketchbook and handed it over, then moved down to the other end of the couch like he didn't want to be too close when Chris looked at it. 

The drawings were good. Obviously unpracticed, but good, strong lines creating powerful figures. Chris turned the pages of the sketchpad slowly. Pointing out an intricate Asian-influenced design drawn in the center of one page, Chris asked, "Is this a tattoo?" 

Nick nodded. "I'm still thinkin' about it. I want it to be right before I get it done," he said. 

Chris looked at the design some more. It drew him in, somehow, the strength of the lines and the spaces in between. It made him wish he still had Fuman, so he could ask Nick to do some drawings for him. And that was just... strange. He'd never really wanted to talk to Nick about anything that personal before, like his company. Losing his company. 

Finally he closed the book carefully and laid it aside on the end table next to the sofa. Turning to Nick, he said quietly, "Those are great. You've got talent." 

Nick looked down for a moment and then glanced up at Chris. "Thanks," he said, finally. "Like I said, it's been awhile..." 

Chris waved Nick's excuse away. "Yeah, but it's there. You just have to tap into it." He shifted down the sofa some, and reached out for Nick's hand. "It's all right in here," he said, touching Nick's fingers, rubbing lightly. Those long, talented fingers. 

Creativity always turned him on. It was what had brought him and JC together at first, and what had driven him to start Fumanskeeto. 

It was what was making him pull Nick towards him now. 

*** 

One Saturday in Miami they woke up to a monsoon, so they stayed in and watched Speed Racer on Chris's big-screen TV. Chris had picked up the whole series for Nick on DVD after being subjected to a rant about the Cartoon Network never airing it anymore. 

As the closing credits began to play for the eighth time, Chris turned to face Nick on the sofa. "What are you doing the last weekend of the month, man?" 

Nick looked surprised. They didn't usually plan stuff that far in advance. "I don't know. What's up?" 

Chris made himself say the words without thinking them through first. "Why don't you come to Challenge?" 

Nick laughed and waved his hand in Chris's direction. "Right." 

"No," Chris said. "I'm serious." 

Nick just shook his head and laughed some more. 

"Why not?" 

"Dude, I'm scared of those *NSYNC fans," Nick finally said, when he stopped laughing. 

"You got nothing to be afraid of. They've never hurt O-Town." 

Nick shot him the glare of death. Chris shifted uneasily. "Okay, sorry. Sorry!" Nick relaxed a little then, so Chris asked, "Really, though, why don't you come?" 

"And have all your friends trying to pull me aside and give me relationship advice? No thanks." 

Chris opened and closed his mouth. Then he cleared his throat. "My friends?" 

Nick nodded. 

"They need to keep their mouths shut." Chris frowned. "It's not like we're, you know. Like, a _thing_." 

"No, it's not," Nick agreed quietly, and started the next episode. 

*** 

At the VIP party the night before Challenge started, JC cornered him upstairs between a table and the wall. "So, have you made him a mix yet?" 

"Why the hell does everyone keep asking me that?" 

JC laughed, and Chris was tempted to smack his skinny little ass, because he _knew_ that sunburn didn't stop at JC's waistline. He didn't even have to check. 

"Dude, you always make 'em a mix," JC giggled. "That's the first sign. Ask Justin and Lance." 

Chris tried to look dignified. It was difficult, with JC leering at him like that. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said stiffly. 

"Come on, Chris. Lance and J noticed it a long time ago. Before we went to Europe, even. Whenever you like someone, you know, like that, you _always_ make a mix." 

Okay, technically, that was true, Chris thought. But he wasn't gonna tell JC he was right. 

JC leaned a little closer and lowered his voice, "Honestly, the only reason I knew you were really interested in _me_ was because they told me what it meant, when you made me that mix." 

Chris looked at JC incredulously. "You mean you couldn't tell from the way I was acting?" 

"Dude, no. I thought all that extra teasing was to try to get me to switch buses or something. I had no idea." 

Chris snagged a beer from a passing waitress. "So I made him a mix. It doesn't mean anything." 

JC lifted his eyebrows. 

"What?" 

"C'mon, man. Maybe you don't _want_ it to mean anything, but you know it means something." 

"It means he has bad taste in music." 

JC shrugged. "I don't think he does. I liked his CD." 

"You like Bryan Adams." 

"You do too. Don't even start, Chris. I've heard you singing 'Summer of 69' way too many times." 

Chris bit his lip. 

JC set his drink down on the table beside them and pulled Chris closer to the wall, farther away from the crowd. "Listen. I know you're scared." JC glanced around to make sure nobody was listening. "Don't freak yourself out. He obviously likes you, you've been sleeping together for months and seeing each other longer." 

"I'm not freaking out." JC made him sound like such a baby. 

JC sighed heavily. "Okay, this isn't Chris freaking out. This isn't you trying to push him away because you think you like him too much, right?" 

"I'm just not good at relationships, all right? I suck at romance. Look at us. Look at me and Dani." 

"God, if I weren't so sunburned I would totally kick your ass right now," JC replied. Chris couldn't help but snicker at that. "Have you ever thought about what Dani and I have in common? Why it didn't last with either of us?" 

Chris stared at JC. It hadn't lasted because he hadn't been able to _make_ it last. Because he sucked at the relationship thing. JC knew that. How could he bring this up now, here? Was he trying to make Chris feel worse? 

"It fell apart because we _worked_ together, you idiot." JC spoke slowly and distinctly. "We were friends, and we were in love, and we worked together _too_ , and it was too much. Something had to give." 

That... that didn't make sense. Okay, maybe it would make sense for someone else, like some normal person who worked with their boyfriend or girlfriend, but that wasn't, _couldn't_ be why he and JC hadn't made it. He and Dani. 

Surely. 

He needed to think about this. 

"You should've brought him this weekend. It would've been fun," JC finally said, picking up his drink again. 

Chris frowned. "I asked him. He's in California right now, though." He finished his beer and set down his bottle. "I think I'm gonna go, man. I'll catch you later." 

*** 

Nick came back from his two weeks in LA full of stories about Tommy Lee and all the cool bars and record stores they'd gone to. 

He also came back with pierced nipples. 

"Whoa," Chris said when Nick lifted his t-shirt to show them off, still sitting across from Chris at the diner after they'd finished lunch. "Holy shit, didn't that hurt?" 

"Like a motherfucker," Nick grinned, lowering his shirt again, carefully. "Tommy came with me." 

"Oh yeah? I bet he got off on that," Chris sniped, before he could stop himself. 

Nick blinked, then frowned. "What's that supposed to mean, Chris?" 

"Nothing. Sorry." God. Way to go, Kirkpatrick. 

Nick stared at him a moment, then pushed his plate aside. He spread his hands out on the table in front of him before he spoke. "Do you have something you want to talk about?" 

"Not really," Chris muttered, staring down at his plate. 

Nick tapped his fingertips on the tabletop, lightly. "You sure, dawg? Because I've been getting the message loud and clear all summer, that you're not my _boyfriend_ "--the word was barely louder than a whisper--"and that's fine, okay? I've been having fun. But now you're acting all jealous of Tommy, and I just don't get it. Enlighten me, Chris." 

Chris looked up as Nick dragged a hand through his hair and let it fall back down into his eyes. He looked sad, and that made Chris feel sad. Damn it. Not that he knew how to fix it. 

"I don't know what to say, Nick," Chris finally answered. "I'm sorry, what I said about Tommy." 

Nick sighed. "I just don't want... I mean, it's been good, right? And I figured we could... well, keep it going, I guess, as long as it was fun. But now it seems like you're not really into... whatever." 

Chris bit his lip. This is what he'd been dreading since the very first day. This is why he hadn't wanted to get involved in the first place. But then he'd gone and done it anyway, hadn't he? 

Nick was still talking. "I mean, I'm not mad. It's not like I don't want to hang out anymore. I have a great time with you. But if the other stuff is, you know, like you say, _nothing_..." He trailed off, then shrugged. "If that's all it really is, maybe we need to forget that part." 

Chris didn't know if he could forget. The way Nick looked in the morning, with bedhead and sleepy eyes. The way he laughed when he was turned on, and how that always turned Chris on even more. 

The way he shivered under Chris's fingers and mouth. 

Chris took a deep breath. "I have a great time with you, too," he finally offered. 

Nick smiled sadly. "But..." 

"I just don't want to, you know, ruin it. With this." He gestured between them, hoping Nick would somehow understand what he meant. 

Chris fell silent as the waitress came to gather up their empty plates. Nick sat back from the table, stretching one arm along the top of his side of the booth. Chris could see the outlines of the rings under his t-shirt. 

When they were alone again, Nick licked his lips. "Chris, this isn't easy for me, either. But I have to tell you," he leaned forward and lowered his voice, "it's not nothing. To me. If it really is to you, then I'd rather we quit now and just go back to being friends." Nick looked down, then back up at Chris. "Think about it?" 

Chris nodded. He had a feeling he was going to be doing a lot of thinking. 

*** 

Chris heard Nick's Jeep outside and went to the door. It was still hot out, even this late in the evening. You'd never know from the weather that summer was almost over, although Chris had lived in Florida long enough that he should be used to it. He stood on the step with his hands in his pockets as Nick walked up, a twelve-pack of beer in one hand and a paper sack from the Latin American Cafeteria in the other. 

"Hey, Nick. It's good to see you." 

"Hey, man," Nick answered, holding up the bag and the beer. "I brought dinner. Cuban sandwiches." 

They'd planned for over a month to watch the Two Towers DVD the Tuesday it was released, but Chris had still been surprised when Nick had called that afternoon to confirm. "Yeah, of course," he'd answered, glad he'd picked up the movie that morning while he was out. "Come whenever you like, I'll be here." Neither of them had mentioned Nick spending the night. 

Chris let Nick into the house and took the beer to the fridge, snagging two cold ones before he shut the door. Nick was pulling plates out of Chris's cabinet, and for a second it felt just like all those other movie nights they'd had, settling down with takeout for a night of Jackie Chan or an Indiana Jones marathon. Chris opened the beers and handed one of them over, then took a long swallow of his own, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. 

"So, how you been?" Chris asked as Nick put the sandwiches on plates. It was weird not to have seen Nick for two weeks, since the day they'd talked in the diner. It hadn't seemed like Nick was avoiding him, though, he'd just been traveling a lot. "Nice haircut." 

Nick grinned. "Thanks. Figured I may as well, before these appearances I got coming up." 

"Vacation's over, huh?" 

"Guess so," Nick shrugged. "Time flies, right?" He took a bite of his sandwich. 

Chris picked his sandwich up and looked at it, then set it down again. He knew he didn't have to do this now, but he thought he might have a better chance of eating if he got it out of the way first. "Listen, Nick," he began, and then stopped again when Nick looked up at him. 

"Yeah?" Nick set his sandwich down and took a drink from his beer. 

"Uh, why don't we go in the living room and get comfortable?" Not what he'd been going to say, but Nick just raised an eyebrow, then gathered up his plate and his beer and headed into the other room. 

When Chris followed, Nick was settled on the sofa with his plate on the coffee table in front of him. Chris set his own dinner down and sat on the other end of the couch. He took a deep breath. 

"Nick, I thought... Um." He took a deep breath. "I mean, I just wanted to give you this," he said in a rush, and handed over the CD that was sitting on the end table beside him. 

Nick wiped his fingers on his shorts and took the CD from Chris. "Okay," he said, sounding surprised. "Thanks, man." 

Chris busied himself getting the DVD out of the case and taking it over to the player while Nick read the tracklisting on the CD. When he turned back around, Nick was staring at him from the sofa, his eyes bright, two spots of color high on his cheeks. 

"This mix... it's really cool. I mean, I love these songs. It's like, the best ones from the other one you made me, and..." He looked at the CD again. "It's like your favorites and mine. Together." 

Chris cleared his throat. "It doesn't have to mean anything," he began, slowly, "if, you know. If you don't want it to." 

Nick shook his head. "No." Chris felt his stomach twist, but then Nick continued. "I mean, I do. I hope... it does. Mean something." 

They stared at each other a moment longer, and then Nick smiled, slowly, and patted the sofa beside him. "Come here, Chris." 

Chris didn't remember crossing the room, but he was there, suddenly, and Nick's arms were around him, squeezing him tight. "You really mean it?" Nick whispered, and Chris nodded. 

"I'm sorry I acted so stupid," he mumbled against Nick's shoulder. "It wasn't nothing to me." 

"I knew that. You think I don't know what the first mix meant?" Nick was laughing a little as he spoke. 

Chris pulled back so he could see Nick's face. "What? Those nosy fuckers..." 

"Careful what you call Howie, man." 

"How... damn, I'm so gonna kill JC." 

Nick smiled. "Let me thank him first?" 

Chris couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, but _then_ I'm killing him." 

Nick let him go and Chris grabbed his own plate, staying close to Nick on the sofa. Suddenly he was starving. He took a big bite of his sandwich. 

Nick winked at Chris. "So, are we still gonna watch the movie? Or you want to save it for later?" His grin turned wicked. 

Chris felt his face heating. "You know, I really should warn you. I'm terrible at relationships," he said. "Worse at romance." 

Nick leaned back against the arm of the sofa and shook his head. "Dawg. I ain't looking for romance." He stopped and thought for a second, like he was looking for the right words. "I just want someone who'll come to the tattoo parlor with me in the middle of the night." He grinned. "And dig it as much as I do." 

Chris looked at him, and blinked. He could do that. "Well, then maybe I'm your man," he finally said. 

He could feel the smile on Nick's lips when they touched his. 

[end]   
  
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End file.
